


Winning at Quidditch

by Zoe_Grimm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Celebrations, Consensual Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, No Plot/Plotless, Older Woman/Younger Man, One Shot, Quidditch, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23358796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe_Grimm/pseuds/Zoe_Grimm
Summary: Pure smut. 18 year old Oliver Wood meets Minerva McGonagall in her office to celebrate Gryffindor finally winning the Quidditch finals.
Relationships: Minerva McGonagall/Oliver Wood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Winning at Quidditch

He was walking, almost running towards her office, a happiness unlike any he had ever known expanding almost violently inside his chest. 

_We won_ , he kept thinking, in his last year at Hogwarts, his very last chance...

He found her office and knocked rapidly and loudly on the door, not caring for the subtlety she had reminded him of so often. It was his last year at Hogwarts. The year was almost over. And today, he was a king. 

She opened the door as his queen, her face looking years younger with joy, the grey streaks in her ebony hair forgotten, as she took him in her arms and kissed him.

Minerva McGonagall, his head of house, who half an hour ago had cried even harder than him. 

_We have won._

Her lips were soft and her mouth yielded easily underneath Oliver's questing tongue, captain of the quidditch team at sweet 18.

Minerva adored his youth and his enthusiasm, the way he swept her off her feet, kept her up late at night with sex and quidditch discussions and surprisingly earnest conversations. Oliver Wood still had a brain behind his handsome face, no matter how many times the same had been hit by bludgers. She had stitched him back together, over and over. Her young athletic lover.

She clutched at his chest and his shoulders and he had one of his big hands on her waist, the other one softly stroking the line of her firm jaw. Usually oh so strict, she allowed herself to bend a little when she was with him. Just a little, but it was enough. 

Oliver knew that the rest of the team would be celebrating in the commons room right now, that his team mates would wonder where he had gone, but he didn't care. He had all the celebration he wanted right here, and he could make up something later.

For now, he held Minerva tighter as their kiss deepened, his excitement from the match slowly but surely transforming into the physical. Her hands were roaming over his ribs, his muscular stomach, finding a way under his robes to touch his skin. 

He pushed closer and found a way to explore her in return, tracing lines right beneath her breasts, brushing them ever so slightly, breaking their kiss to find the sweet spot on her neck. She hummed, and he continued to treat her, slightly distracted by her hands wandering lower towards the zipper of his jeans. His robes were in the way and so they had to come off, hastily over his head, landing somewhere on the floor of Minerva's office. With a smouldering look in green eyes she allowed him to disrobe her as well, revealing a taut stomach from her own old quidditch days and beautiful, if modest curves. He kissed along her collarbone, one of his favourite spots, and she brought a hand to his head and put it in his hair. He wandered lower, nudging aside her bra, kissing her breast. Her free hand found its way into his open pants, caressing him, teasing him, until he was hard. It happened within a matter of seconds. 

Without need for conversation, they undressed, the small wet spot on Minerva's undergarments revealing her equal excitement. Victory, as it was, tasted oh so sweet. And she wanted to reward her champion for finally bringing it to her. 

With one languid movement, she positioned herself over her own desk, throwing a look back at him that told him she knew _exactly_ what she was doing. He swallowed hard as his erection intensified almost painfully. The sight of Minerva McGonagall, her muscular back stretched out before him, positioned over her own desk just for him, was... almost indescribable. 

So many times she had been on top of him, and now she simply surrendered to bring him joy. 

With a dry mouth he stepped forward, marvelling at her skin, reaching out to caress it with his fingers. As he slid into place behind her, his hard cock ran along her wet pussy, and she moaned lowly at the contact. He stepped back and repeated the motion, teasing her, almost unable to bear it himself.

" _Mr. Wood...",_ she began, almost sounding like her old self, the stern professor, but not quite. He could hear the unfinished reprimand between them, reached between their tangled legs and carefully guided his cock inside of her in one slow motion. 

They both moaned at the contact, and Oliver could see Minerva grab one edge of the desk with her hand, that slim and graceful _veiny hand_ which had him so very excited every time it neared his parts. And when it touched him, well... the reaction was obvious. 

He meant to kiss her, but could only reach her back in their current position, and so he began trailing open mouthed kisses on her skin as he set a slow rhythm. It was sweet torture, his head still flying high from the earlier rush, and now forcing himself to still take it slow. She deserved to be treasured, on any occasion. Upon her command, he slightly increased his pace, watching spellbound as she adjusted her position to reach between her own legs, beginning to massage her clit. 

Oliver himself was far from negligent, squeezing her firm ass in his hands, running a thumb between the cheeks because he knew it excited her. And indeed the lower he went, the harder her cunt clenched around his cock, until he found that sweet spot at the very bottom and massaged it with his thumb.

Minerva McGonagall felt ready to explode. He filled her out so well, and teased her ass so expertly, that she increased the rhythm of her fingers on her own clit and pushed back against him to ride him harder.

He joined in her efforts, his thrusts becoming faster and more forceful, his hands cramping on her ass as he tried to hold his own release at bay. She was moaning loudly by now, the sweetest siren melody he ever knew. Low, throaty, and entirely dirty, the way she lay upon her desk, all wet and wanting around his cock.

"Minerva... I .... Minerva", he moaned, meaning to tell her that this couldn't go on forever, he was oh so close...

"I know", she whispered, increasing her efforts, feeling herself clench, and in a few more strokes she was there.

A quiet "fuck" escaped her lips, and she shuddered as she came thoroughly, all of her senses suddenly under assault. He was right behind her, finally allowing himself to fall over the edge, thrusting with a final desperate need until he had exhausted himself. 

He fell forward, cradling her shaking form in his arms, covering her with his own body until they had their breathing back under control. 

"Hey", he said softly, a long moment later, with his cheek resting on her back and his arms still tight around her, "you know what?"

"I know a great deal, Mr. Wood, but I do not know what you are referring to right now", she teased, an imitation of her Professor persona creeping back into her voice.

He grinned, and simply said "we won".

She smiled, a brilliant smile even if he could not see it, and repeated "yes dear. We won."


End file.
